


a thing of beauty is a joy forever

by graduating_pitch



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Retelling, buncha nothing writing tbh, not really pitch perfect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graduating_pitch/pseuds/graduating_pitch
Summary: Imagine selene and endymionexcept it's hella gayand it's pitch perfectkinda (but not really)





	a thing of beauty is a joy forever

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer for a while now, so I thought I'd give it the spit and shine and pop it up here
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Chloe dreamt of the moon.

The endless tapestry of the sky revealed itself to Chloe in her sleep, the light of the lune pouring down to her. The sky darkened in shades of blue, ready for rest from times before. The flock laid to rest, exhausted by the harsh rays of the day, calmed by the serenity of the night. The moon did not burn, it assuaged, she healed. In her hypnotic cool light, the world found peace, sought refuge, found itself caught between the weary past and the relentless future. In her fullness, the days knew completion, the tides knew their place, Chloe knew her everything.

The dreams were vivid. The moon graced her, touched her face lightly, like a ghost, like a lover. The moon knew everything about her, everything she needed to know about Chloe. The moon saw Chloe in her weaknesses, in her vulnerability, and remained all the same. Ever steady, every changing. The nights came and went with the ebb and flow of all other things. The black tide receded, the black tide washed over the moon's face. Her demeanor could take on strange, mysterious ways, away from the concerns of earth. But she was always watching, always careful, the rays caressing gently, flowing down like river life, shadowing all the steps in which she did not reside.

Chloe saw the moon in her dreams, saw it as she slept in open air.

The moon in her dreams was beautiful. She wore a sheer dress made of starlight. Her hair swept around her like hazy clouds. Her voice was a thousand symphonies, carefully constructed under the watchful eye of a thousand years. The moon descended on her stairs of light, slipped through the curtains of Chloe's fantasies, and invited herself in, as she had done many nights before. And she watched, the realities Chloe made in her reveries, and smiled, radiated joy as the pantomime of what was never played out in front of her. Then her watching grew into dancing, and her dancing grew into talking.

They spoke every day, of the inane and the insane, the whole world collapsed into the singularity of which they discussed. Of what they discussed Chloe could not tell you in words, but the feelings, Chloe could talk forever of. Could spend forever in. They grew stronger and stronger every day. The more Chloe saw of the moon, the more she wanted to know of the moon. The more Chloe spoke to the moon, the more its changes seemed trace the changes of her own heart. The day lost its luster, seem too harsh and cruel. The night was her vambrace, keeping her hand at her heart, falling in love with the way she was falling in love.

Beca was the moon, the ever phasing, from whole to unwhole.

-

Beca ruled the stars.

She was the crescent, the crescendo of the night, and everything around her danced in infinite rhythm. But it did so under her light, to her tempo, the steadying slow beats that led to the quiet unquiet of the night. The wind crashing in gentle step, in sweet tides. The call of the insects singing midnight praise. The muted sounds of wildlife growing ever more less. Farewells and good nights, whispered in love and in longing. Hypnos' spell, enrapturing the eye, like a net over the earth, draped gently in weary heat. All it moved to service its queen, the only wonder, the one which could not be unfollowed.

The night was her kingdom, the heavens her endless lands. As she moved from east to west, all bowed down in reverence, as was designed. There was no light that could overthrow her enveloping power, no defiance that could match her unending strength. As surely as the sun rose, the moon took its place every day. At the end of it all, there was only her light that saw the new day heralded. It was hers and hers only to behold, all others simply glimpsed through her clothes. And she saw it all, the kind and the ruinous, all acts of treachery and beauty performed underneath her cloak. None escaped her gaze.

Beca watched the stars.

The small, insignificant pinpoints of brightness found brilliance in their number, and in their own unique fashion. They spiked and flashed to the eye, catching every way they could, not demanding attention but enchanting it, making all in the light magical. They were lost in their own world, in the same way they placed themselves just so in the greatest tapestry of them all. Their movements could not be replicated, not even by themselves, as they burned slowly to the ground with glory untamable. Their transience was not hers to hold, so Beca stared into the water, deep and full, longing and lost in the same.

But the stars were not just of the sky, they slept on the ground. The people who worked themselves into a frenzy in daylight found themselves rooted in the ground, finding slumber in their own ways. Dreaming in constellations, pinpricks in the holes of reality, coloring the world with palettes unseen. Beca was enraptured by how these mortals glimpsed eternity underneath their consciousness, slipped into wonder without intent. Some grew dangerously enchanting, such that Beca could not help but be pulled into their fantasies. She visited those she grew most enamored by, grew close to those she visited, watched their light bloom as their being unfolded in front of her.

Chloe was the brightest star of them all.

-

Chloe loved the moon.

For the day brought nothing but trouble in Chloe's life, the ramshackle state it was. The day was fierce, consuming, and offering little in return. Expectation weighed on her head, a thousand titles rang in her head without truth. The stories of the day, they made precious little sense. They were maw, ravenous to consume her heart and take her head. Was she a hunter, a prince, a king? Did she rule over a million hungry men, crying out for what she could not offer, or did she tend to the precious few sheep she was left with? The stories mounted upon her back, pulling down with grasping tendrils.

The night brought Chloe a masterpiece of wonders to imagine. The shapes that formed in the shadows ignited Chloe's senses, muted the rest of the world into the small space between her and darkness. It drew her in, as she had drew it in, and swelled in her chest like a summer storm, brewing wild and unleashing. Chloe began to see the hours of the day as curses, trials to be enduring. They did not hold her fancy, not hold her favor. If she was a king, she was the queen of the night. The first lady of the moon. Her lover and her benefactor.

Chloe adored the moon.

Because in the sprawling blackness that almost proved too much to bear, the moon blazed out. Not impulsively and blindingly bright, but in majestic fury, pure in white robes, holy in its ways. The moon, Beca, burned for her, she fell ever more certain. Down the depths of love, of reverence. They knew each other intimately, like halves of the same whole. Like the sides of the moon, desperately chasing each other around into dizzying heights, fantastical thoughts. No-one pushed her like Beca, no-one pursued her like Beca. Chloe never felt more alive when she was lying with the cousin of death, deep in her arms, hazy clear and perfect.

And they made love in the moonlight, kissed where it was not bright. The darkness was their own to create. The canvas on which to dream upon. Entwined like the fibers of the universe itself, they formed a whole from two desperately seeking halves. The threads of every legend descended in delightful dance, weaving and knotting in their arms, in their legs. Everything that Beca was, Chloe reveled in. Everything that Chloe was, was to worship Beca, in all her minute glory. The most momentous structures, the tethers of the world, failed to hold what Beca was. The smallest divisions of nature could not separate the wholeness, the pureness that was her light.

Beca was everything, nothing, what was once past and what was yet to come.

-

Beca wished upon the stars.

Upon everything that she had. To see Chloe dream of her for all eternity. Beca wanted it, Beca desired it, Beca needed it more than the world. Chloe was her world, her colors, her stars. All else seemed faded old, unbelonging to her touch. Chloe was the furious wind, unmaking and remaking Beca to be everything hers. Chloe was the healing breeze, cool and reveiling, cloaking Beca in the wonder of it all. Godhood seemed precious small, worthless compared to the infinity that Beca had now tasted. And now that she had tasted, Beca could not stomach anything else. Beca could not live for everything else.

So Beca took the summit to the gods, pleaded her case. Against all their understanding. Against all her might and will, Beca wished to be humbled at Chloe's slumbering feet. The expanse of all that Beca once beheld, now lay behind lidded eyes and soft mumblings of one not yet awake. They did not understand. How could they understand from their lofty thrones? Their trysts of weakness, and not strength. They would never be lovers, just lost, in the grandeurs of their own illusion. They would not understand, they did not understand. But they let her let go, of everything they held dear. They were selfish enough to think that it could be something more than just for another.

And thus Beca left the stars.

She had spent herself, her dominion over the night, for Chloe. Her feet finally graced the cold earth, the sheep scattered to field below. The cold took her presence for the first time, the dark of the night was no longer hers to elucidate. The weight of weakness poured down in her like stones, like waves, like death. She took her final steps, to reach the place where Chloe lay. So she could lay there forever, become forever, alongside Chloe. So Chloe could lay undisturbed beside her forever, become forever, alongside Beca. Beca alongside Chloe. Chloe alongside Beca. She and she, her and her, one and the same, love.

So she slept by her side until dawn stole them again.


End file.
